


Repent and You Shall See the Light of God

by painted_pain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Heaven, Imprisonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-31
Updated: 2012-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 20:04:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painted_pain/pseuds/painted_pain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Israfiel,” Castiel intones, gravel in his voice and laced with a deep sadness. He knew this would happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repent and You Shall See the Light of God

Castiel pulls out of Dean’s dream, drifts nowhere and everywhere for a suspended moment and then manifests himself on Ellis Island, at the top of the Statue of Liberty, noting freezing winds, how they pull and tug at his vessels clothes, how the skin pimples with goose bumps, hair standing on end. He waits, a statue himself, still and cold, and watches the seas, senses sprawled out, tendrils of power curling out and tasting the air. He feels - - Castiel  _feels_ , worry and fear and anger and confusion, muted emotion swirling and surging in him. He must fix this, must help Dean. He does not understand why his brothers would so this. Bringing about the end of the world, releasing Lucifer, this is not why brought Dean back up from Hell. This is  _not_  - -    
  
There is a flap of wings behind him, a surge of celestial power, a pulse and flare, a shiver through his own wings and he turns to see to see one of his brothers, weapon already drawn, pure silver glinting in the clear, blue light of early evening.   
  
“Israfiel,” Castiel intones, gravel in his voice and laced with a deep sadness. He knew this would happen, that they would discover his new found knowledge, dig it out of his own head and bare it to the world, to Heaven but he had to be certain, he had to know and now he does. He cannot let himself be caught. He must stop this, he had no other choice.   
  
“Castiel,” is his brother’s reply and it’s all he hears before he whirls away, scenery slipping and morphing before him, settling as pure white, the snow before him pure and untouched. It’s even colder here, ice and death and stillness. He cannot wait and he moves on, leaving behind two fresh footprints all alone, standing out in the starkness of the barren Tundra.   
  
Next is the flash of green, the rolling hills of the Irish countryside, smelling fresh and clean, a sea breeze washing in over the fields, so different to anywhere else. Then there’s shifting sand beneath his feet, dark and infertile, hot enough to blister skin. Castiel moves so fast, a blur of scenes and smells and sounds, the spices of an Indian market, the smog of the inner city of London, the noise of downtown New York, the heat of L.A., the endless open spaces of Montana. He sees the lives of humanity in such quick succession and he cannot condemn them, with all their faults and failures.    
  
These are God’s creations, each and every one. He will fight. He will protect them. Dean and his brother would do the same.   
  
And then he arrives at the old factory where he asked Dean to meet him, decrepit and crumbling. He cannot hold of the inevitable any longer, cannot keep laying false trails; they are coming and they will not be held at bay, will not stop until Castiel bends to the Will of Heaven.   
  
The lights above him flicker and spark and then explode, a shower of glass raining down on him. He hears the flap of more than one set of wings, that familiar pulse and shudder of power and he is surrounded by his brothers. They look at him blankly, expressionlessly, but Castiel knows how deeply the emotions boil beneath these masks. Israfiel steps forward, vessel an impeccably dressed woman, hair pulled back into a severe bun.   
  
“Castiel,” she says, with all the weight of Heaven behind her, “you cannot stop this. It is God’s Will. You cannot fight this.” She moves forward, small steps that echo around the deathly quiet space, heels of her shoes clicking loudly. Castiel believes her but he has to try, has to warn Dean, has to  _do_  something.   
  
“I know,” he replies, softly, words falling from his lips like stones, “I know this. But I will not let it stop me from trying. What has been planned, it is wrong.” Castiel lifts his eyes to hers and he knows that he is pleading, a small amount of surprise flying through him.    
  
“Can’t you see? This is not God’s plan, not his Will. He loves these creatures, he created them.” He is still but pours the strength of his conviction, his faith, into his words, knowing it is futile.   
  
Israfiel look sad, disappointed. “You must come with us, Castiel, come back to Heaven. You need to be reminded of your orders, of whom your loyalties lie with.” She pauses, looking at him significantly, body shifting subtly. “You must repent.”   
  
Castiel knows what this means and he will not go without a fight.   
  
“No,” he growls, body stance moving to echo Israfiel’s, the stance of a soldier preparing to fight, his sword slipping into his hand, the metal cool against his vessel’s palm. All four of his brother’s converge upon him without a second thought, fighting cleanly, smoothly, the fight of those who know they will succeed. Castiel fight dirty, brutally, giving all he has because he knows he cannot win. Lights flash and thunder claps, lightening streaking the sky outside and Castiel is dragged from his vessel and cast up to Heaven, shoved violently so he falls to his knees, cast down before the feet of his betters.   
  
Zachariah steps forward, dark malice twisting his Grace and Castiel knows he’s the only one who sees it now; his brothers have lost something vital, something that had disappeared long ago and he is struck with how lost the Host is, following each other like sheep who have lost their shepherd, searching for purpose. Castiel cannot feel the same way; he has purpose, he has conviction and he will not let Zachariah pervert this.   
  
“Castiel, what am I going to do with you?” The words slip through the air, oily with contempt. “I am going to have to teach you a lesson. You shouldn’t  _eavesdrop_ , Castiel, it’s rude.” Zachariah steps even closer, crowding up to Castiel, looming over him. “Do you repent?” Each word is loaded, heavy and they drop into the silence.   
  
Surrounded by his brothers, Castiel gathers himself up and looks around, looks back at the angel in front of him and knows his answer.   
  
“No. No, I do not repent.”   
  
And the he is thrown through Heaven, pulled and kicked, wings stretched and pinned, like something on display. Zachariah appears before him, the only figure in this part of Heaven. The light is dark and dim, the murmurs of the Host muted to almost nothing. Castiel is surrounded by silence, it’s weight pressing into him and he feels like he’s been cut off from something intrinsic to his self. His Grace wriggles and strains and aches to be set free.    
  
“You will stay here, Castiel, alone, abandoned, imprisoned, until you repent. And no one will miss you.” With a fluttering sound, he disappears, leaving Castiel alone and he pants, a deep-seated hurt aching in his chest, in his wings, in his Grace. Memories he has long pushed away and forgotten flood into him and around him, reminding him of the souls he could not save, the wrongs he could not right. The many ways he has failed Heaven and it is  _excruciating._  And Zachariah’s words slip insidiously into his head; “You will follow and obey the Word and Will of God, Castiel, because without it you are  _nothing._  You  _will_  repent.”   
  
And he begins to weep.   
  
Castiel knows he will keep him here, isolated, stretched too tight, too thin, over the failures of his too long past, he will pound God’s word into him until he is about to burst with it, light streaming from his eyes. He cannot escape. He is a prisoner. He will not be let free until he acquiesces, until he repents. Castiel is no help to Dean until he does.    
  
“I repent.”    
  
And something is ripped from him, something he doesn’t recognise. Castiel cannot afford to miss it.   
  
“I repent.”   
  
And he is set free.


End file.
